


Pumpkin

by murakistags



Series: Hannictober 2016 Prompts [2]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: #Hannictober, Alternate Universe, Cannibalism Puns, Established Relationship, Everyone Is Alive, Father-Daughter Relationship, Fluff and Humor, Halloween, Hannictober, Hannigram - Freeform, Light-Hearted, M/M, Murder Family, Post-Season/Series 03, Pumpkins
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-11
Updated: 2016-10-11
Packaged: 2018-08-21 20:41:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,139
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8259905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/murakistags/pseuds/murakistags
Summary: A snapshot of early-autumn dinner, humor, and domesticity from the Murder Family. Also including pumpkins.—Post-S2 AU / Everyone Is Alive. Written for the #Hannictober, Oct. 02 prompt: “Pumpkin.”





	

**Author's Note:**

> The latest in my October ventures. As always, I'm a sucker for the Murder Family. Especially domesticity. Yes, good.
> 
> Not beta-read. Apologies for any mistakes.
> 
> Bon appétit.

October 02

 

—•—•—•—

 

The scent is mild atop a base of minced onion and salt, a generous drop of olive oil to accent the earthy flavors, to keep the vegetable from burning at the pan's bottom. Hannibal takes careful care to fold the mix gently on the stove so that oil doesn't pitch up and burn bare skin nearby on his forearms, and also those of Abigail. She's nibbling on pumpkin seeds while leaning against the counter with a jutting hip, blue eyes curiously watching the cannibalistic chef's latest seasonal concoction.

 

“It smells almost sweet,” Abigail comments with a mild wrinkle of her nose, a hand vaguely gesturing to the stove.

 

Hannibal's maroon gaze flits up to catch the young and brief expression, and he immediately smiles, a muted chuckle sounding in his throat. “It is a bit sweet on its own. Thus why you must add salt, and a hint of fresh tomato and onion.”

 

“…Honestly, that's making it sound worse.” Abigail wrinkles her face again, but her body betrays her. The scent of the cooking, mushy, orange pumpkin wafts up to her nose when Hannibal stirs the mixture, and creates a lowly rumbling growl from the pit of her belly.

 

“Your stomach seems to think otherwise.” The air is somehow jovial, and so is Hannibal's lilting reply, that smile still etched onto his face. Nothing like spending some early-autumn quality time with his family. _Family_.

 

Abigail huffs playfully and pushes herself off the counter by the hip, strolling away while grabbing a handful more of pumpkin seeds from a crystal dish on the granite countertop. Hannibal thought the snacking would spoil her appetite, but by the time he could protest at all, Will was already leading by example by shoving some seeds into his mouth. Hannibal had felt no exasperation, only a quiet fondness as he watched Abigail and Will discuss the mechanics of spitting seeds and sunflower shells…and promise him to never try it in the home.

 

The vacant spot at the counter beside the gas range isn't left cold. Will sweeps right in, having descended from his shower, squeaky clean and smelling of perfumed lotions and artisan mint-lemon-drop soap. In passing, he gives Abigail's arm a nudge, they share a smile, and the teen drifts off to her own devices until dinner is ready. She'll most likely set the table, as she most always does.

 

Will wedges himself up against Hannibal, tongue growing wetter at the immediate delicious smell from the pan. “Almost done?”

 

“Almost done.” Hannibal is in his own element when cooking, looking entirely comfortable in his white apron, sleeves of his dress shirt rolled up to display lean forearms. His smile is also indulgent for Will, allowing the younger male to be swayed just enough so that when Hannibal leans in for a chaste kiss, Will readily complies.

 

Their warm lips meet for a brief second or two, and Will's hand snakes to settle at the hollow of Hannibal's back. He traces the minute movement of muscles there against the cream-colored shirt, feeling more content than ever. Domesticity suits Hannibal, Will thinks, no matter how extravagant and unique his tastes may be.

 

“Did you carve the pumpkin shell as you wanted?” Hannibal raises brows and asks quietly, silently lamenting having to move from Will's gentle hold so that he can transfer the cooked pumpkin from the pan to plates. Inhaling deeply leaves him with the scent of freshly-washed Will above that of food, and that is more than enough alone to appease his greed for direct physical contact. For now.

 

“Yes. But, uh…it's not as great as I thought it would be.” Will chuckles almost sheepishly, mindlessly circling around the centre island to lean on elbows opposite Hannibal, and to watch the food be plated as elegantly as always. “I remember it being a lot easier when I was a kid.”

 

“Many things are far easier when we are children, and naïve.” Hannibal comments with a purse of lips, thoughtfully.

 

“…Fair enough. But still, maybe you should've done it instead. I'm not nearly as artistic as you are.”

 

“You are crafty, Will. I'm sure it's lovely.”

 

“I don't think Abigail's going to like it all that much. It was her idea to do this, stick a candle in it every night, leave it out on the porch and all that. ‘Get into the Halloween spirit.’”

 

“Abigail will like it, even more so because you crafted it for her.”

 

Will sighs, bending his head to run a hand through his damp curls. “I sure hope so. I think the teeth turned out looking more like Goofy and less like Dracula.”

 

Hannibal blinks, looking positively boyish and young as he pauses in the act of garnishing the plates with fresh sprigs of parsley. “More like _who_?”

 

“What?” Will starts, incredulously. “You mean you don't know _Goofy_ –?”

 

Will calling out Hannibal's cartoon faux pas is thankfully and promptly interrupted by Abigail's apparent cheer as she pops into the open doorway to the kitchen. Her cheeks are rosy with delight, eyes soft but warm, and in that moment it pauses both men to stare in her direction, both struck by how very young she appears just then.

 

“The pumpkin looks awesome, Will!” Abigail exclaims with just the right hint of excitement, to keep from looking too girlish and immature. It's a sincere compliment, and the surprise to hear it is evident on Will's expression of raised brows and on Hannibal's expression of knowing smirk. Before Will can say anything, Abigail continues on.

 

“It's gonna look so scary with a candle in it, in the dark. Maybe we can put it out on the porch after dinner. Speaking of dinner, I'm starving. And I set the table already, so…” She gestures over her shoulder with a hook of her thumb, gaze dancing between Hannibal and Will.

 

Will takes one prepared plate, Hannibal takes two, and they relocate to the dining room as per their daily routine. Abigail isn't even seated when she's already beginning to critique the meal placed before her.

 

“I don't know if I'll like this all that much, Hannibal,” she warns, glancing up at the psychiatrist as Will drifts back to the kitchen for a brief moment.

 

“You'll never know if you don't try it. I assure you, it is delicious.” Hannibal answers, suavely sliding into his seat around the table's corner from her, at the head.

 

“You scooped out the innards of a pumpkin and threw it into a pan. Sounds as strange as it looks.”

 

“By that definition, Abigail, is it so different from back in Baltimore when I–?”

 

Will renters the dining room then, to the rescue with a soft laugh, a chilled bottle of wine in his hand, and a playfully chastising “no cannibal jokes at the dinner table.”

**Author's Note:**

> If you liked it, don't forget to leave kudos and comments. They inspire me and make me smile.
> 
> Please consider [buying me a coffee for a fic](https://ko-fi.com/murakistags)!


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